


Pillow Talk

by carolej126



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Childhood, Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-28
Updated: 2015-05-28
Packaged: 2018-04-01 17:29:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4028557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carolej126/pseuds/carolej126
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Originally published in Road Trip With My Brother 9 (Agent With Style, 2009)</p><p>Pillows provide a lot more than comfort.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pillow Talk

Dean moved closer, his face bright with excitement, as Mary lowered herself into the big armchair. Scooting back slightly, her back against the cushions, she gestured for the small boy to join her.

Dean's eyes were glued to her stomach, the stomach that had grown - and grown - in size over the past few months. 

Mary looked down at her firstborn, pillowing his cheeks between her palms before pressing a small kiss to the top of his blond head.

"Go ahead, sweetie."

Dean reached out, hesitantly at first, touching her swollen belly with his fingertips, careful not to push too hard just like his daddy had shown him. 

John had held him in his lap, and gently placed Dean's hand on his mother's stomach. Her abdomen barely bigger than usual, he hadn't felt anything different, and he had expressed his disappointment. His mom and dad had both laughed, promising that, when Sammy got bigger, he'd be able to feel the baby move.

Now, after his mother had assured him that Sammy was a lot bigger, and a lot more active, he was ready to try again. 

Almost afraid to breathe, Dean waited, his full attention focused on his fingers and the cloth-covered skin beneath them. At first, he thought he was imagining things, and then he felt it again, and his eyes widened.

"Sammy's kicking, Mommy, I can feel it!" 

*******

Dean curled up on John's lap with a sigh, using his dad's stomach as a pillow. Each time the door opened, the four-year-old would look up expectantly. But, so far, the lady in the pink dress with a funny apron had never even looked in their direction, or called their name.

She'd called "Patterson," and "Styles," and one time, "Winters." Dean had thought for sure that she was going to say their name that time, thought that "Win-" was going to end in "-chester." His eyes had lit up with anticipation, and he had half scooted off his dad's lap. But it didn't, so he had settled back down in disappointment.

Dean sighed again. It had been a long time since the day that his mom and dad had called his name, snuggled with him on the couch, and told him that there was a baby in his mommy's tummy. And that it would be either a sister or a brother. 

He had rolled his eyes at the idea of a sister. He knew it was going to be a brother, because that's what he wanted. A brother to play with and take care of. And he had been right.

The door opened again and Dean held his breath. The lady in the apron was back. She looked around the room, and then smiled first at his dad, and then Dean. He knew what that meant. He was already on the floor and halfway across the room before she got out the name.

"Come on, Daddy."

It was time for him to go meet his new brother. 

*******

Pillows stacked in a rough circle around him, Dean surveyed his creation with satisfaction. 

Usually, when he made a fort to play in, he used the big wooden blocks that were stored in a box in his bedroom. But this time, he was using all of the pillows in the house: his mom's, his dad's, his own, and even the extra pillows that mommy kept in the closet for "company." 

It didn't look quite the same, and the walls weren't very tall, so he'd have to duck way down low if he wanted to hide, but the pillows were nice and soft, and that's what was important. Because the fort wasn't just for him, it was for Sammy, too. 

It wasn't that Sammy was moving around very much. He really only waved his fists and kicked his feet in the air, but his little brother could still get hurt if Dean used the wood blocks and they fell down. 

And Dean didn't want that to happen. 

"Good job, honey."

Placing the last pillow into position, Dean beamed at his mother's words of approval, and then watched as she lowered Sammy to the floor, settling him on a soft baby blanket inside the pillow walls. 

The baby immediately wiggled, grasping the silken edges of the blanket with his tiny fingers.

"Let's play fort," Dean told his little brother. "It'll be fun." 

*******

Dean slid his hand carefully between the pillow and the sheet-covered mattress, looking for the tooth that Sammy had placed there only a few hours before.

He swept his hand back and forth, keeping one eye on his brother as he searched. At first, all he found was a small selection of toys: a plastic soldier, three marbles, a hot wheel car. Then, in his second attempt, he found the small baby tooth.

Grasping the tooth with his fingers, he started to pull it out, only to freeze in place when Sammy stirred.

"Shh," he soothed, not moving an inch. He stayed that way until his brother sighed softly, and then settled back to sleep.

The tooth quickly went into his pocket, and two quarters were positioned under the pillow in its place.

Sammy had gone on and on the night before, talking about losing his first tooth, about the tooth fairy, about the money he expected to find under his pillow the next morning. And how he would show his dad, as soon as he returned from his latest hunt, the way he could stick his tongue through the newly acquired space between his teeth.

Dean had listened, smiled, laughed, admired that tooth. And then, as soon as Sammy was asleep, headed straight for his secret stash of money. There was no way he was going to let his little brother be disappointed. 

*******

Dean eyed the pillow on his bed, eyed his brother, his body poised for action.

Sam eyed the other one.

It had been a long time. Hunt after hunt had left them exhausted, unable to do much more than fall into their respective beds at the end of the day - or the night. But two days off had left them energized, and ready for a little stress-relieving mischief.

High end hotels, the ones that advertised maximum comfort, were known for expensive, oversized, fluffy pillows. The motels that Dean and Sam frequented could be counted on to provide the cheapest, least comfortable, flattest pillows available. In other words: the kind that were just perfect for pillow fights.

A smile curled Dean's lip. Sam's mouth twisted slightly in response. 

Both waiting for the other to make a move. 

It didn't take long.

With a yell, Dean launched himself toward the bed, grabbing up his pillow just seconds before Sam went for his own. Arms outstretched, he took the first shot, clobbering his brother across the shoulder blades and knocking him off his feet.

The fight was on. 

*******

Dean's eyes were open, his unblinking stare focused on the ceiling above.

The first touch had slowed him down, making his limbs sluggish. The second had paralyzed, taking away both movement and speech.

As Dean watched silently, with growing dread, the creature moved in and out of his view. He wasn't sure exactly what it was. Just knew that it was deadly.

Above him, Dean could see the roughly rectangular shape of his pillow, descending toward his face. He screamed soundlessly, lips frozen.

Sam!

His brain commanded move, grab your knife, do something! But he couldn't. He couldn't even twitch. 

All he could do was lie there, heart pumping frantically, and hope that Sam arrived in time.

*******

Dean groaned, clenching his jaw as Sam pulled the final stitch through his skin. He had tried to hold it in, knowing that his brother was being as gentle as possible, but this time, the sound had slipped out, causing both of them to flinch. 

"Let's get you comfortable," his brother said softly, his hand gently brushing across Dean's forehead before carefully maneuvering Dean onto his side.

One hand keeping Dean in place, Sam snagged the pillows from the next bed and tucked them in closely against Dean's back. He squeezed his brother's shoulder in reassurance, and then moved away, toward the far side of the room.

Through heavily hooded eyes, Dean watched as Sam pulled a second set of pillows down from the shelf over the hotel towel rack. They joined the others, positioned along the length of his body, working together to prevent Dean from rolling back onto his injuries. 

Two white tablets were provided, and Dean didn't even look at them, just slipped them into his mouth, and took a sip of the offered water. 

As the pain slowly receded, Dean began to relax. It wasn't just due to the meds, though. Even with his eyes closed, he could tell Sammy was near, and that allowed him to rest peacefully, better than any medications could.

*******

"Go to sleep, Sammy."

Sam hadn't said anything, but Dean had known. The exhausted, pale face, the sluggish movements, the lack of appetite, the low grade fever. It wasn't anything serious, they both knew that. Just too many hunts in too short a time. No real injuries to speak of, just the usual bumps and bruises that, in time, wore a body down.

Dean had used their own pillows and blankets, along with those he'd borrowed from their last hotel room, to create a comfortable bed in the back seat of the Impala. 

After helping Sam into the car, his brother moving carefully, gingerly, he covered Sam with a final blanket, placed a water bottle within reach, and then took his seat behind the wheel.

At first, he kept the radio on, the volume set as low as it could go and still be audible, but after a while, he turned it all the way off, and began to hum. 

For most people, Metallica certainly wouldn't be the first choice of music when thinking of a lullaby. But the Winchesters didn't follow the normal rules, and for Sam, the music he associated with both his Dad and Dean provided a sense of security, of home. And so did the gentle rocking motion of the Impala.

They'd only traveled a few miles before Sam let out a muffled snore.

Dean couldn't help but smile at the sound. With the open road in front of him, he accelerated, planning to drive for a few more hours, or a few more days. Whatever his brother needed.

~end~


End file.
